


Open Mic

by Howlingdawn



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Carlos, Blood and Violence, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Whump, bamf tk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: “All units, police, and fire RA, clear channel two. Switch to Tac Channel 50. Officer on open mic in distress. Needs assistance.”At first, the order didn’t register with TK.Then he heard Carlos’s unit number.And heard the fear in Grace’s voice.And recognized Carlos as the man grunting in pain over the sound of someone being slammed into something metal.[Or: The Tarlos version (with a tweaked ending) of this week's Bathena scene because I AM STILL STRUGGLING WITH HOW MUCH THAT SEQUENCE M U R D E R E D ME]
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 15
Kudos: 303
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star Week





	Open Mic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lone Star Week - Day 4 - Action & Adventure

_“All units, police, and fire RA, clear channel two. Switch to Tac Channel 50. Officer on open mic in distress. Needs assistance.”_

At first, the order didn’t register with TK. He was still buzzing from the adrenaline rush of their latest rescue, still focusing on carrying the child he had saved from the collapsing building just in the nick of time. He handed the girl off to her sobbing mother, smiling at the reunion, glancing up as Judd congratulated him with a pat on the back and a warning not to let his badassery inflate his ego. He opened his mouth, ready to retort.

Then he heard Carlos’s unit number.

And heard the fear in Grace’s voice.

And recognized Carlos as the man grunting in pain over the sound of someone being slammed into something metal.

TK’s head shot up as he whipped around, meeting his dad’s eyes through the darkness. He knew he would run to Carlos’s side on his own two feet if he had to, but first he let out a simple one-word plea: “Dad?”

He nodded, already moving, gesturing at the EMTs. “Get them to the hospital. Everyone else, on the engine, let’s _go_!”

TK was throwing the door open before Dad finished the first sentence.

\-----

His mic was still open.

That was the thought hovering in the back of his mind as Carlos fought for his life.

The serial killer he had been hunting for weeks now had gotten the drop on him. He was bigger, stronger, and Carlos was alone. He threw punch after punch, landing a hit here, a hit there, but the guy grabbed him, slammed him back against the storage lockers, knocking the breath from his lungs. He gasped, dazed, struggling for air, and the killer threw him against the other wall, his head snapping back against the metal. He could feel unconsciousness calling to him, threatening to drag him into a blackness he wasn’t sure he would ever wake up from.

But TK was listening.

He hadn’t been talking to TK when the killer attacked. He knew they would’ve been ordered to clear the channel. He knew firefighters wouldn’t be let onto the scene until the fight ended, one way or another.

But he knew, in his heart, that his husband was listening, and that he was on his way.

He would not let TK hear him die.

And he would not let TK find his body.

With a roar bursting from his aching lungs, Carlos fought back.

\-----

TK clutched his dad’s hand in a white-knuckled grip. He wasn’t sure when Dad had taken his hand, but as the sounds of Carlos in agony and fighting for his life overwhelmed him, the touch was the only thing keeping him from screaming. He flinched with every impact, pressing deeper into his seat, squeezing his dad’s hand with more and more force.

“They’re telling us to switch to Tac 50,” someone said quietly.

TK tried to shake his head, but it ended up more as a sharp shudder. The radio was his only connection to Carlos. Even as he flinched at another hit, feeling like Carlos’s cry of pain tore from his own lips, he knew the silence would be worse.

Silence would mean not knowing.

Not knowing if Carlos was still fighting.

Not knowing if he would find his husband or a corpse at the end of their frantic sprint.

“Don’t,” Dad said quietly.

He wrapped his arm around TK’s shoulders, holding him close.

TK clenched his eyes shut, the first tear he couldn’t hold back falling down his cheek.

\-----

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see.

He could barely stand.

He kept fighting.

Blinking blood out of his eyes, Carlos ducked another punch. He grabbed the killer’s wrist, yanked him forward, threw his elbow into his face. Blood spurted from his nose, but he shoved Carlos’s arm up, drove his knee into his side. He stumbled, knocked off balance, and the killer shoved him, sending him crashing to the cold concrete floor.

He could see his gun, knocked out of his hand at the beginning of the fight, lying on the ground, just out of reach.

_I love you, TK._

Giving his attacker a vicious kick to buy him a few precious seconds, he flipped onto his stomach and lunged for the weapon.

\-----

_Bang._

TK’s eyes flew open, the gunshot ringing in his ears. Certain he was already breaking both of their hands, he squeezed Dad’s even tighter, staring at the floor.

He couldn’t look at anyone.

He couldn’t bear to see pity in their eyes.

He couldn’t bear to see grief in their eyes.

He couldn’t bear to see _hope_ in their eyes.

_Bang._

He pressed his wedding ring to his lips with bruising force. “We’re almost there,” Dad murmured, his voice breaking beneath the strong façade he was putting on. “We’re almost there, TK.”

_Bang._

\-----

Pinned to the floor, the killer kneeling over him, Carlos gripped his gun with both hands, the previous shots still ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure who had fired any of them, but with the barrel now mere inches away from pointing at his face, it didn’t really seem to matter.

He was just pushing with everything he had left, straining to keep it away from him, fumbling to somehow loosen the killer’s grip on it.

It crept closer.

\-----

Cheeks tear-stained, jaw set, TK leapt out of the truck almost before it stopped, yanking open one of the storage compartments and grabbing an axe. He had only ever had to hold it as a weapon once before, when they were searching for the runaway bull, but he held it up with no hesitation now, gripping it tight and ready to swing it.

Cops had already arrived on the scene. As TK marched up to the front entrance, one tried to stop him. “The building hasn’t been cleared yet-”

Dad was right behind him with an axe of his own, Judd and the others on his heels, and after a single glare, the cops didn’t try to block them.

Behind him, the others split off to cover more ground.

TK just followed his instincts, letting his gut lead him to his husband.

He found him.

Pinned to the ground.

Gun aimed at his face.

With a cry of rage, he charged.

\-----

Carlos saw TK over the killer’s shoulder a split second before he started charging. He jumped at his sudden appearance, twisting around to take in the new threat. He yanked the gun from Carlos’s grip, swinging it around to aim at TK, a sneer crossing his expression as he realized it was just a firefighter who had brought an axe to a gunfight.

_Not my husband, you bastard._

Setting his jaw, steeling himself against the agony of moving, Carlos surged upwards, throwing one last punch at the killer’s face, his swollen and bleeding knuckles slamming into his cheek. The gun went off, but he didn’t drop it, and with flashbacks to the last time TK had been shot flashing through his mind, Carlos grabbed it again, forcing his hand up to aim at the ceiling.

A shaft of moonlight glinting off the blade, TK’s axe swung over their hands, close enough for Carlos to feel the breeze it left in its wake.

It hit the barrel of the gun, knocking it loose from both their grips.

Busy flinching from TK’s wild swing, the killer was half a second too slow to lunge for it as it fell.

Carlos snatched it out of the air, swung it around, and put a bullet through the killer’s heart at pointblank range.

\-----

The final gunshot echoing down the hallway, TK watched the killer collapse, hitting the ground with a dull _thud_. Blood blossomed from the hole in his chest, spreading across his shirt, staining the pale fabric dark red. His dull, lifeless eyes stared at nothing, but still TK’s grip tightened on his axe, wanting nothing more than to swing it one last time.

Carlos groaned.

He slumped back, dropping his weight onto one hand with a wince, lowering the gun as if it weighed twenty tons, yet his arm shook as he tried to continue holding it up. “Are you ok?” he asked in a rasp.

“Am I-”

TK couldn’t even finish the incredulous question. He dropped the axe with a clatter, grabbing the dead man and hauling him roughly off of Carlos’s legs. As Carlos started listing to the side, gun still up and shaking, TK caught him, kneeling beside him. “You can let go now,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around Carlos’s, gently coaxing the gun out of his grip.

“He shot you,” Carlos mumbled, sagging against him.

Belatedly, TK noticed the sting in his arm, the tear in his sleeve. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Finally, Carlos let him take the gun, head falling to lay on TK’s shoulder. TK set it aside, gathering Carlos into his arms, closing his eyes and pressing a lingering kiss to his hair. After the fight for survival, after the mad dash to reach him, TK was quiet, savoring the simple privilege of holding him, feeling the pounding of his own heart finally begin to subside.

As the adrenaline faded, the fear returned.

“Never do that to me again,” he whispered.

Carlos’s laugh came out sounding more like a groan. “Believe me,” he said, “I won’t.”

“TK!”

Reluctantly, TK looked up at his dad’s call, seeing him running towards them. “We’re alive,” he said. “The bad guy’s dead.”

Behind Dad, Judd stopped to check, feeling for a pulse and arching an eyebrow at the gunshot wound. “Yeah, I’d say he’s dead.”

Dad knelt on Carlos’s other side, resting a hand on his shoulder and ducking his head to his eye level. “How you doing, son?”

“You know how you’ve been saying I should take some time off?”

“For a month, yes.”

“I think I’ll do that now.”

Dad and TK chuckled, TK giving him another kiss. “That sounds like a great idea,” Dad said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Michelle’s almost here. She’ll get you patched up.”

“Thanks,” Carlos croaked.

He stood to talk to the cops finally reaching them, giving them a few more moments before they had to face reality again. Carlos lifted a heavy hand, twining his fingers around TK’s as best he could. “Thanks for coming,” he whispered.

“For you?”

TK cupped Carlos’s cheek, tilting his head up with the utmost tenderness, and kissed him. “I’ll always come for you.”

Carlos smiled.


End file.
